


To The Last

by Haicrescendo



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Gen, No One Is Okay, This has a happy ending I promise, estelle has terrible coping mechanisms, everyone has terrible coping methods, magic wand coma, shady medical practices, this fic is old as shit, yuri’s horrible no good very bad near death experience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 12:37:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15707388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haicrescendo/pseuds/Haicrescendo
Summary: Yuri thinks that the last thing he's going to see is smoke, flame, and Estelle in tears. Well, he's totally wrong about that one and about everything else too, because he wouldn't have expected that after a month, people would still be waiting for him to come home.





	To The Last

Yuri's sure that he's going to die and that's not okay at all but maybe it could be less okay, because he did what he had to and he won't ever regret it.

Oh, it's awful.

The sky's black as anything, from smoke and thunderstorms and lit with flame licking from the forest, and all he can hear is screaming and his heartbeat. He can't even hear Estelle over the noise. That's his biggest regret right now, he thinks, that he can't hear her.

It wouldn't be any good because her face is streaked with tears and blood and smeared with soot and she's holding onto his shoulders as hard as she can, crying and sobbing and healing and he's sure that this one time, it's not enough.

It's just not enough, because no one can be run straight through like this and live, not even with Estelle's healing at his back and her hands at his heart.

It could be worse.

At least if he has to go, it's because he _saved_ somebody, this worthless good for nothing managed to save somebody and the last face he's going to see is Estelle's, even if Yuri wishes that she'd be smiling instead of breaking. At least it's her, he thinks. At least it's her.

She'll be cared for when he's gone and that's more than Yuri can ask for.

He's leaving but he's leaving friends, friends who can take care of each other when he's gone. Flynn can pick up Estelle's pieces and Raven can pull Karol out of the pit and Judy will make sure that Rita doesn't bury herself, and Estelle will take care of Raven and Karol will take care of everyone, because that's just what he does. Because he's Captain Karol and Yuri's captain too and that'll go with him to the very end.

To the last, he thinks, grateful that even though he can't hear her, he can feel her grip on him, so strong and so afraid and so _angry_ , and he wants to tell her not to be. That there's nothing that she could ever do about it even though he knows she'll blame herself. Yuri tries to say the words but his only response is a warm rush of blood in his throat that makes Estelle's tears come harder and faster and he won't try again if that's what it does to her.

_It's going to be okay_ , he wants to say but can't. _You're strong. You're strong enough to handle this. You don't need me._

He needs her, though, and he wishes that he weren't so scared to be leaving without her. Without anyone. It's been so long since he's been alone that Yuri's not sure that he can do it.

Yuri can't hold back the dazed, painful smile that curls at his lips when his vision blurs until all he can see is Estelle. She's all he wants to see, and he's lucky enough to catch a glimpse of Raven and Karol as Estelle throws her arms around him and drops to the ground, shielding him from the rain and fire, and he wants to tell her not to.

_Stop that,_ he wants to tell her, _You idiot. You'll get hurt and then what was all this for?_

He can't, though, so she doesn't stop, and Yuri uses the last of his strength to raise a trembling hand to touch her temple, sliding down through the blood and grime blooming on her skin to brush a smooth line from cheek to jaw.

And then his hand drops and (how cliché, Yuri thinks) everything fades to black like that same cheap play.

* * *

If this is Hell, it's pretty damned boring.

* * *

" _You need to stop."_

" _No."_

" _Seriously. Come on, darlin', it's gorgeous outside. Walk with me a little, get out of this room."_

" _No."_

" _Lady Estellise, perhaps you should—"_

" _I said_ _ **no**_ _and I meant it. Both of you, get out."_

" _So, what, you're just gonna sit here with a corpse until you break?"_

" _Maybe I am."_

" _Don't be stupid—"_

" _I said get out!"_

There's a tinkling of glass and a broken sob and it's too late for warnings because Estelle's been broken into a thousand pieces before, she can do it again. Maybe she never really put herself back together.

Maybe she's always been broken and didn't know it.

Estelle curls in on herself and buries her face in her hands and a strong, familiar arm curls around her shoulders to draw her in for comfort she can't convince herself she deserves.

* * *

Yuri's not dead, Estelle's sure of it.

He doesn't wake but he still breathes, still and motionless but he breathes on his own, breathes long after she's fixed the hole inside him and the little things too, breathes when she runs out of everything useful and starts filling the cracks with herself until she's cracking too.

That's how it feels sometimes, she thinks as she sits. Sometimes she feels like the only things that keep him breathing are her hands, constantly healing until she sways, every time she feels one more drop of magic well up in her.

She knows that there's something horribly wrong with this.

That Yuri wouldn't like this.

That Yuri would _hate_ this.

There's a point that even Flynn, Flynn the Dedicated, Flynn the Loyal, Flynn the Faithful, comes to her and begs her to stop, takes her hands and stills them in his, eyes dark and shadowed and grieving. She hurts for him. She hurts for him and for her and for Yuri and for everyone else who's filled with pain who can't stand to see her do this.

But Estelle won't stop.

She won't stop, can't stop.

She digs in with teeth and claws and with everything she has because that's just what Yuri does. If it was her in this bed, she knows that he'd be just as much of a giant moron about it. Because that's just what they _do_ for each other. That's why Flynn tries so hard, why Karol won't take a single step into this room but still stands guard, why Raven and Judy are both about two minutes away from knocking her out where she sits. Why Rita hasn't bothered to tell her to stop because she knows how useless that is.

They're all grieving. Estelle doesn't have the space.

Estelle doesn't know how long she sits.

She sits until her vision swims and her hands shake and she doesn't remember what it felt like to be tired or hungry. There's no room for any of that inside her now, just pain and the determination to do whatever it takes to keep Yuri going for however long it takes, because she _knows_ that he's going wake up.

Yuri Lowell isn't dead yet and Estelle is going to make sure that he stays that way come hell or high water.

She just doesn't know what he needs. His body's been healed; there's nothing left for her to stitch back together. There has to be something she's missed, something that he needs.

The shakes don't matter, the dark spaces that makes shadows in her heart and head don't matter, the tears she can't hold back don't matter either.

What matters is staying here with Yuri so he's not alone, holding him together until he can come back.

Whenever that is.

* * *

It shouldn't have surprised her when, after being suspiciously absent for two days, Raven re-enters the room and approaches to uncork a bottle of something sweet-smelling underneath her nose.

Estelle sags and falls into arms prepared to catch her, and instead of carrying her off and away, Raven scoots her closer to the bed and lets her fall, despicably gently, onto the blankets. It's enough that she sleeps, unwilling as it is, he's no reason to take her away too.

The shadows under her eyes are deep, like dark smudges of ink underneath darker lashes, and he knows that this has been too long in coming.

"Worryin' over you is gonna be the death of us all," he tells her before he leaves, knowing that she won't hear him. Maybe he says it _because_ she won't hear him. "It's not gonna be the death of you, too. You're not allowed, you stubborn idiot."

* * *

There's a hand in his and Yuri's pretty sure that that's not what people get in Hell.

There's a hand in his and Yuri wonders, for a good while –seconds, minutes, hours, days, years- why it feels so familiar, because dead men don't get comfort in Hell.

There's a quiet buzz, too, and that could be Hell because it's annoying enough, and he can kind of sort of make out the words if he tries, which is strange because he shouldn't have to try for anything. Dead men don't have to try. Dead men don't _need_ to try.

But he tries anyway because he's Yuri Lowell and he might be dead but he'll never stop trying.

_How long's she—_ something crackles and fizzes like one of Rita's spells and he should know that voice, but he can't pin it down.

_Hasn't mov—three days—How long was she—_

_Forever._

And that word comes clear, clearer than anything else, and something about it makes Yuri's dead, frozen blood freeze even further.

_She'll wait for him forever_.

And Hell comes back up to swallow him, drowning Yuri Lowell up to his ears with only slack fingers laced in his to keep him safe.

* * *

This has to be some kind of test, Yuri decides when Hell recedes and the words come clearer.

It's quiet most of the time except when it isn't, and when it isn't, it's usually a voice he knows that he can't make out.

It's a voice he knows that calls him home, that means safety, that means warmth and love and a place to belong, and he wants so desperately to call to it, to wrap it up and keep it always. It's a voice he doesn't like to sound so sad, so hopeless, and Yuri Lowell's frozen heart beats.

* * *

When Yuri opens his eyes, he's sure that this is a dream or maybe a nightmare or maybe another test.

Except that…well, he's sure that Hell never once looked like his bedroom in Dahngrest (maybe his room in the Lower Quarter but never Dahngrest) and he's definitely sure that Hell could never, ever hold Estelle. Estelle, who's holding his hand and practically curled around it on the blankets, half on the chair, half on the bed. Repede's curled up at the foot of it, half on his feet and staring at him.

Yuri wants to say something but his throat won't work.

He can't even lift his hands. He tries but for some reason he's so weak that his body doesn't listen and he gives up.

And then the door opens.

Blue eyes lock on dark violet and Flynn stutters to a halt. He opens his mouth like he's going to speak but no words come out. Well, that's lovely. Yuri can certainly empathize with that little plight. And then he takes a single step like it takes everything out of him, then another, then another, then another until he's standing right next to the bed, still looking Yuri straight in the face.

"Yuri?" he finally manages to croak out, "Please. Please, you have to give me some sign that you're actually awake and not just some kind of fever dream."

And really, what else can Yuri do but roll his eyes skyward and make what Karol calls his huffy face?

Flynn looks like he's about to cry and Yuri can't tell him to pull it together before he's swooping forward like an oversized eagle to drop a rough, spontaneous kiss to Yuri's forehead. Yuri's pretty sure that his face says enough because Flynn scrubs a hand across his eyes and somehow manages to look sheepish.

"Sorry," he says in a half-whisper, "It's just—it's been a rough time. Really rough." He backs up a step and stands next to Estelle, looking from her to Yuri and then back to her. "Really rough," he repeats and Yuri wonders what that's about and why Estelle looks so exhausted even when she sleeps and where everyone else is. "Are you tired? Do you need anything?"

Spirits, what's Yuri got to do to make it clear that he can't talk?

Still, his eyes feel strangely heavy and he feels the darkness creeping up again and he doesn't want it; he's been sleeping for too long and missed too much already and he doesn't want it. Still, it doesn't matter what he wants because Hell's coming back whether he wants it or not, and the last thing Yuri sees before his eyes close again is Flynn, worried but almost too relieved to be real.

Repede lays down again, tucks his tail up over his nose, and waits.

* * *

When Estelle wakes up (more like comes to, because whatever Raven's been giving her knocks her out more than it puts her to sleep), she knows that something's different.

That difference is a familiar set of eyes locked on her face and a pressure on her hand that wasn't there before.

"Yuri…"

Yuri nods and tugs her hand closer to him.

And Estelle loses all of her breath.

She can't even pull in enough air to stutter or sob and she curls in on herself to try and steady her way through it, Yuri's hand in hers warm and solid and _there_ , more than it has been in all these long days, weeks, months, years, and Yuri looks like all he wants to do is sit up.

"Easy, easy," he manages, voice hoarse from disuse and squeezes his fingers until she manages a half-hysterical, broken sob. "Calm down, you need to calm down."

And she doesn't think at all before she's throwing herself across the bed to fling her arms around him, pulling him close into a hug. Arms curl around her and that's it, that's _it_ , and Estelle just breaks right there. All of the pain, all of the pressure, all the nerves and sleeplessness and then forced sleep without rest catch up with her and she cries full-on and messy like she hasn't since she was a little girl. Yuri takes her weight without protest, shifting the best he can to make his bed accommodate the both of them, and wonders if he's going to have to yell to get someone in here…except that right this second, he almost doesn't want to.

For a bit, at least a little bit, he'd like to stay here because she's about all he can manage right now.

Any more than that and the room might start getting smaller.

The way she cries is kind of horrible, the kind of tears that you can't control or hold back, the kind that come from just not being able to do it anymore.

And Yuri looks around the room through pink and wonders just how much he's missed.

Estelle doesn't know how long she clings to Yuri and bawls except that when it's over, she feels heavier and more exhausted than she's ever been. Weaker, too. Tired for the first time. She knows that she ought to get up, to go get someone, anyone. Spread the news, tell everyone. But she can't, she _can't_ , and all she can do is go slack and feel like she's resting for the first time in she doesn't know how long.

There's little transition from crying to not until her eyes drop like shutters and she drops right with them, pressed up against Yuri. Warm, breathing, alive-and-not-just-living Yuri, who stares at her with a baffled expression, hands twitching on her shoulders until the door opens like it was planned.

It _was_ planned because it's Raven this time and he doesn't look surprised at all to see him.

"…Flynn?" Yuri asks dumbly and receives a solemn nod in reply.

"That's right, kid. The last time you woke up was yesterday; he told me then."

"So…why didn't you say anything?" He makes a gesture towards Estelle, "I mean, to her. You should have told her. Flynn didn't wake her up, either when he was here."

The look in Raven's eyes is strange and sad and something clenches tight in Yuri to see it.

"Couldn't," he says shortly and turns to rummage about in his pockets. Raven holds up a corked vial filled with something yellow-ish and dotted with what looks like shredded leaves. "No point in trying, she wouldn't wake up."

Yuri frowns and feels his mouth drop open.

"Is that—Raven, have you been _drugging_ her?" he asks, scandalized.

"You got a better idea?!" Raven retorts, then lowers his voice as Estelle twitches with the noise, "Shit. Yuri, the kid wasn't sleeping. Not just badly, not just restlessly. At _all_. For _days_. What was I supposed to do? All she did, for _days_ , was sit here and heal. Even when she ran out of magic, she'd keep tryin' until there was nothing left, until there was nothing left of her. It didn't matter what anyone said or anyone did, whether we promised we'd stay while she slept and ate something or—we had to do something. Flynn tracked down the recipe, I got the stuff to make it. It works. It's not perfect but it works. Only thing we could find that wasn't habit-formin', you know?"

"She…she was that bad off?" Yuri shifts his gaze from Raven, back to the girl he's holding in his arms, "I thought—" well, it didn't much matter what he'd thought, did it? "I thought she'd be okay." He doesn't recognize his voice.

He doesn't remember the last time he sounded so lost.

Raven takes pity on him.

"Okay? Kid, she was destroyed." Okay, so many not pity so much as honesty. Sometimes, Yuri thinks that they're about the same thing when it counts. "Hope and despair…they eat you alive. Seeing you breathin' without livin'…well, she couldn't give up hope, could she?"

No, Yuri realized, no. She wouldn't ever, not if he was there, so close. And it would have…

"It'd have killed her."

Burned her out and left a shadow.

Yuri turns his face away and rubs his temples with the hand he can afford to take from her. He does it again, just to make sure that this is real and not some horrible joke.

He knows, though, that Hell could never keep Estelle and that's how he knows that this is real. He's not dead, not stuck in the darkness anymore. Yuri's had enough of darkness and he adjusts his grip.

"So…" he doesn't know where to start and Raven parks himself in the chair next to the bed and waits for him to figure it out. "How _long_?"

"A month, a week, and three days," the man answers promptly like he doesn't have to think about it. Maybe he doesn't.

"And…and everyone else?" Yuri's not sure what exactly he means by that. He means _everything_. Is everyone okay? Are they taking care of each other? Have they missed him? Had they let go of their hope and—His brain hurts. His everything kind of hurts.

"Well, no one's over you yet if that's what you want to know." Blue eyes turn to stare out the window. "Might've if you'd actually been dead, but there it is. Tryin' to…well, you know. Stay hopeful without getting' the hopes up too hard. What else can you do?"

Yuri shakes his head.

"I dunno," Truer words have never been spoken, "So…what's wrong with me?" He feels so weak and tired and that doesn't make sense because he's been _sleeping_ this whole time. He knows weakness from injury, not weakness from inactivity.

"Nothin', just out of shape," Raven tells him, "You'll be fine once you stretch the old legs some."

"Still not as old as yours."

Raven snorts.

"Yeah, and whose fault is that? Making me even older, kid."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

A hand reaches out and whaps him upside the head.

"You'd better be." Raven gives a funny little smile that Yuri doesn't think looks happy at all because it doesn't quite meet his eyes, which seem like they're just a little more lined than they used to be. "I'll go get the others, let them know you're awake for real." Yuri opens his mouth and gets cut off. "They won't wake her, I'll make sure of it."

* * *

Life is both easier and harder than it's ever been.

Yuri gets his strength back and feels infinitely less insecure about himself. It's so good to see everyone again, and he wonders who it's been longer for: them or himself. Sometimes it feels like he just saw them yesterday, sometimes it feels like it's been years and he just can't tell anymore.

So he goes on and lives and tries to not think too hard about it, mostly because that won't lead in anything but a circle and never let it be said that Yuri Lowell chases his tail.

He finds that he can't handle the darkness.

Any darkness, even that of his own bedroom at night, is too much and that room is too small, and he often spends the late hours of the evening wandering through Dahngrest. The quiet streets are calming and it makes him feel more settled when he does come back. The only thing that seems to help is having someone else around, as mortifying as that is, to remind him that Hell isn't coming back the moment he closes his eyes.

For a while, that person's Flynn because even though Flynn doesn't get it, Estelle sleeps more than she ever used to and Yuri doesn't want to put anything more on her. Not when he sees how she moves after she wakes, unsteady and shaky for a good while afterwards, even after she gets a proper meal and decent rest and an eased mind. She's even dressing more casually, like it doesn't matter so much anymore what she looks like. It's not a bad thing, he thinks, to see her windblown and a little less put together just like the rest of them.

It's harder to recall what it's like to be afraid, even though he still remembers.

And Yuri, despite himself, is still afraid.

More than once he returns from his walks to find Estelle on the floor and leaning against the wall in the hallway leading to his bedroom or in the chair that's become hers or on the couch, almost always asleep but never in her own bed. Oftentimes, Yuri finds himself forgoing his sheets in favor of settling down next to her because he won't ever forget that despite everyone's efforts, it was her voice that had led him home, her hands that had guided him, and her very life that had fueled his.

He owes her and not only does he owe her, it's a debt he _treasures_ unlike any other.

If he can keep her safe or aid her slumber and maybe keep himself safe in the process too, he's all for it, and sleep comes easier with someone else there.

And sometimes, when she leans closer to burrow against his shoulder like she knows that it's him, Yuri lets himself lean in closer in return to nestle his chin against her hair and for a bit, he can forget that he doesn't quite fit yet. That he's different, that he's been unmade and made again into something a little bit new and just a little bit cracked.

Part of him thinks that he shouldn't be alive right now.

He thought he was dead, would have bet his very life that he was dead, but he wasn't.

He demands all the stories and memories of his absence, if only to take in just how much everyone seemed to have suffered, to take some of their burden, to share it, to understand. Not just Estelle, not just Flynn, but Raven and Karol and Judy and Rita and the other members of Brave Vesperia too who stayed and waited and who didn't give up on him. Not really, not where it counted.

Yuri learns that for three days, constant and unceasing healing was the only thing that kept his heart beating.

Yuri learns that for six, Karol stood vigil outside his door and didn't move until he had to, even when it was surely hopeless.

Yuri learns that for twelve, no one saw hide nor hair of Judy because she had left the city in search of any kind of cure that might bring someone back from the brink of death long after their body had been healed, to no avail. She traveled everywhere, he's told, to lands unfamiliar and untraversed, and the only thing anyone could tell her was time.

And time is what hurts most, he thinks, and that's when he takes up his sword and goes out to train, to make sure that his body is reliable. To make sure that it won't fail him again. To make sure that he won't be leaving again anytime soon. It's not fair that it's so hard to bounce back from this, but what's ever been fair? For anyone, really.

There's one more scar on him now, huge and snaking up his ribs just like the serpent that nearly claimed his life and it covers up the one Sodia gave him. Yuri's not sure how he feels about that one.

Yuri just wants to feel normal again, like he's not going to slip away again, and that's why sleep comes so difficult sometimes.

It's a stupid fear, because what kind of guild leader is afraid of not waking up again?

Those are the nights that he walks, when he feels the darkness creeping up and can't let himself accept it as something normal. Those are the nights that he walks and comes back and maybe, if he's forced to admit it, those are the nights that he seeks out Estelle. When she's awake she's quiet and calm and Yuri feels steadier, like if he stays where he is things can be alright.

* * *

"Not like I'm complaining," Yuri says when he settles down on the sofa one night, side-eyeing Estelle on the other cushion, "But isn't this kind of a problem for you? I mean, not being in Zaphias, whipping the council into gear."

Estelle shoots him a quick glance before turning back to the sky painted in the open window, inky blue and speckled with stars.

"Ioder has it under control, I think," she replies just as quietly.

"Not like you to leave it to someone else."

And Yuri's bemused by what comes next, a laugh that bubbles from her throat, resigned and unsurprised and not happy at all.

"They finally gave in, you know," she admits like it hurts, "The council decided that they'd back Ioder. He'll be Emperor when all the proceedings are finished. They don't need to keep me around anymore."

And this is the first that Yuri's heard of it and it feels like a kick in the chest, somehow. But Estelle keeps talking like she hasn't just dropped a bombshell on him. What does that even mean to her now? He knows that she doesn't think about her title but it's still a part of her, he knows that much. Why's she only saying this _now_?

"I mean, it's not like I wanted to rule, you know? I'd probably hate it, really. It's a thankless, awful job and I've seen Flynn's paper work stacks and—And it wasn't like…I don't know. I don't know _anything_. I didn't know much to start with, I guess, but it was enough for what it was."

Yuri wants to know what she's not saying and he says as much, and Estelle tears her eyes away from Brave Vesperia in the sky to look him square in the face.

"I knew a week before you got hurt," she admits with a slight grimace at the memory, "I just didn't want to say anything. To anyone, really. I just wanted things to feel the same, and then everything happened, and—well. Now I know even less than I started."

Yuri's brain jumps from question to question, what's she going to do, where's she going to live, why hasn't she said anything? So he asks all of them, mostly because he doesn't have an excuse to not. Estelle shifts where she sits and turns away to let her hair dip into her eyes.

"I feel lost, Yuri," she says finally, after so much silence that it hurts, "It wasn't—it didn't mean a lot but it was mine. And I know they didn't really _need_ me for anything, but—"

"You're a giant idiot," Yuri interrupts her, "You should have said something from the beginning. We could've kept you from stewing in your own misery for so long. And quit thinking that no one needs you." Because he knows that face, he's seen it before, on hers and on his own, and he hates seeing it regardless of who wears it. "Dummy. _I_ need you."

A part of him says that he never would have said that if he thought she hadn't needed to hear it so badly, but that would be a really terrible lie. He says it because _he_ needs to and because _she_ needs to hear it and because it's the _truth_ , and Yuri refuses to be ashamed of it.

"But—"

"No, you hush up and listen," Yuri insists, "That whole time I was out—yeah, there were times that I slept." And he hasn't said this to anyone yet and somehow, that's more intimidating than anything, "But there were times that I was awake. Kind of, anyway. Like my brain was awake but my body wouldn't move, my eyes wouldn't open. I could kind of hear, too, but not great. I don't think I've ever been so…" The truth, Yuri Lowell, the truth, "I don't think I've ever been so scared as I was when that happened. But every time, I could hear someone talking and feel someone holding onto me. It was grounding and kept it from being so awful. That was _you_. I knew I could come back because I knew that—" he trails off and makes himself continue, because Estelle watching him like he's something she's never seen before, "I knew that the place I thought I was could never keep you."

Something in Estelle's face shifts, almost like she's going to cry.

But she smiles instead, watery and tremulous and _shocked_ like she never expected to hear those words come out of his mouth. Truth be told, Yuri's pretty shocked too. He didn't plan on telling her or anyone any of that but it's out now and it's up to her what she does with it. He wouldn't be surprised if she cried; Estelle's just like that, steel-strong where it counts but you'd never know it from how easy it is to bring her to tears.

She swallows them down, though, and leans in to press warm shoulder to warm shoulder.

It's a summer night but still cool enough to leave all the windows open, and Yuri relishes the breeze that whistles and carries cricket song like a melody. He likes this, he decides with a start, without realizing that that had been a decision he could make. He likes the moments with everyone else, eating meals together around one table, sparring and working and talking and laughing, but he likes these moments too, where it's just the two of them. They've all come so far but in the beginning, it was just Useless-Yuri and A-Little-More-Useless-Estellise, they were the ones who started this whole thing, and he won't ever forget it.

He likes sitting with her like this, likes how she doesn't care if she reaches out to touch, doesn't care if he touches back, doesn't even care if they talk or not. Not really. During the day, they're both a little different. A little more talkative, a little more normal, a little less honest. It's not quite so bad to lie a little, Yuri decides, as long as _someone_ knows the truth.

To just exist like this is enough and Yuri's grateful.

"I guess it's better this way," she says after a few minutes, "I would have been a pretty terrible Empress."

Yuri wants to disagree on principle except that…well, she's not wrong. Not really. Her heart's too kind, too gentle for that job. Oh, she could push that aside and get there if she tried but by the time she did, she'd hate herself. Yuri can handle a lot of things, but that's not one of them. This is better in the end, he thinks, despite the hurt that comes from it. It gives her an out and the freedom she wants and needs, even if it comes from sacrificing a title that means more to her than she's ever going to admit to herself or to him.

"Oh, probably," he replies with a flip of his voice, "But you make a pretty decent Estelle, don't you think?" He's rewarded with a tiny half-smile and heavier pressure when Estelle lets herself lean in all the way. Yuri slings an arm around her shoulders and she folds against him like a stack of cards just like he wants.

How could he feel anything but strong, sitting like this?

"You could join a guild," he offers, "If not my guild, anyone's. Whichever you like; any of them would take you in a heartbeat. You might have to deal with an angry Karol, though. He'd be pissed if you ditched him."

Estelle tilts her face in the juncture of his neck and shoulder and so slowly shakes her head back and forth.

"Yuri Lowell, don't say things you don't mean," she chides, "As if I would ever join anyone's guild but yours. And you know it."

Yuri shrugs.

"Worth a shot."

There's a comfortable quiet for a good, long while and that's one of the nicest parts about sitting like this. Because he can, Yuri shifts and crosses one leg over the other until it's practically propped in Estelle's lap. She doesn't say anything about it outside of tapping a slow, steady rhythm on his knee with her fingertips.

"I think…I think I want to go on an adventure," she muses slowly, and it might have seemed idle if not for the way her hands stilled, "Maybe I'll even have kept my touch with camping."

Yuri snorts under his breath.

"An adventure, huh? That'd be good for you." In the window, Yuri can see the first streaks of morning, thin strips of yellow and orange right along the horizon line. Neither of them have slept at all and the rest of the day's going to be long but Yuri can't really make himself care right now, not enough to extract himself and get to bed, anyway. "I don't suppose there'd be room for one more on this adventure of yours, would there?" He could use one too, he thinks.

A change for someone changed might be just the thing.

The hand that's not resting on his knee slips around between his back and the couch cushion to still at the base of his ribs. It stays tentative for a moment but as Estelle relaxes further, it goes as slack as she is.

"I think there might be room for one more, yes," she whispers on a breath, "One more and a dog."

Morning's coming and Yuri lets his eyes close. It wouldn't be the first time they'd be happened upon like this and he's pretty sure it won't be the last, and he really, really can't make himself care. He's got nothing to be ashamed of, because he's got friends and he's got her and he's alive, and what more could he ask for?

He's alive and he's going to stay that way.

The last thing Yuri remembers doing before sleep belatedly claims him is turning his head to brush his lips to pink hair.

"I'm not reteaching you how to camp," he tells her sleepily and barely stirs even when her elbow finds its way into his gut.


End file.
